


Remind Me of What I Am

by Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee (orphan_account)



Series: Sladiver Week 2019 [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 14:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20797985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee
Summary: The Mirakuru takes ahold of Slade, and Oliver deals with the consequences.(Sladiver Week Day 5: Season 2 Freighter AU and Trapped)





	Remind Me of What I Am

Water poured in from holes in the freighter’s side. Oliver, finally clawing his way to the surface, gasped in air, choking on the water that splashed into his mouth. He thrashed around, searching for something, anything that would tell him Slade was still alive. The entire freighter had snapped in half after the explosions Sara had rigged were set off. Now, trapped underneath the slowly sinking hull, Oliver could barely think about trying to get out.

Sara was safe, that should have brought him some relief. The blonde had taken the lifeboat with the prisoners and escaped before all hell broke loose. He couldn’t even focus on the girl now. With any luck, Ivo’s crew would all be dead, or drowning. But he couldn’t. He dragged himself through the water until he could grip a beam still protruding out of the water. Looking around frantically, Oliver strained his ears to hear above the rushing water, there was no sign of Slade.

Leaving without him wasn’t a choice, and even if it were, Oliver didn’t know if he could. Red plumes drifted after him in the water, and though he clung to the beam with all the strength he had left, he could feel himself slipping. How had everything gone so wrong, so fast?

After Shado’s death, and Slade coming back to life, everything had stopped making sense. Oliver had seen the Australian struggling with the serum. No matter how hard he tried to reach him, Slade slipped further and further away. Ostracized by his own mind. Night after night, Oliver sat up with him outside the fuselage, tucked into his side, silent, comforting. Slade would sit there, awake but distant, staring at nothing. He’d hold onto Oliver’s hand, as if that were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. He had stopped sleeping after the second night, after he’d jolted awake, nearly crushing Oliver’s hand in his grasp, rending a hole in the side of the old plane.

He hadn’t spoken about what he saw in that dream, but he hadn’t shied away from Oliver that night. He had let the younger man put an arm around his shoulders, let him hold him close throughout the rest of the night. And Oliver had foolishly let himself hope that maybe, just maybe, they could get through this. Then, it had happened. They’d ambushed Ivo and his men on the freighter, Sara sneaking by to free the prisoners. Slade had come face to face with Ivo, cut off his hand, and the man had told him the truth. He hadn’t lived for much longer after that. It didn’t matter. Ivo’s men had flooded into the room, and Slade, fury etched into every fiber of his being had physically dragged Oliver from the freighter. The archer had nearly drowned twice on their swim back to the island, Slade hadn’t let go of him the entire time, but his hold hadn’t been reassuring.

Five days later, Oliver met up with Sara. The prisoners were healthier, though still not in good shape, but it was enough. They plotted carefully, Oliver knowing that Slade was already obsessing over the freighter and the men still alive on it. Just as Ivo’s men knew they couldn’t leave until all the witnesses were dead. Oliver had at least hoped, foolishly, that maybe they wouldn’t see Slade, that their timing would be different.

It wasn’t. 

It was obvious immediately, and Oliver wasn’t going to leave Slade. The blonde had warned him about the timed explosives, but the American hadn’t had the time to worry about them. He had found Slade, just as guarded and paranoid as before, but this time, Oliver didn’t make the same mistake. He had spoken to him, coaxed his out of his violent attack, apologized to him. And for a moment, he thought it might work. Sara had stumbled into the room, yelling to Oliver that they needed to leave. Her abrupt entrance had startled Slade, and now, Oliver could wonder if he even saw her at all, or someone, something else entirely. When the Australian had attacked, Oliver had instinctively put himself in between them, and yelled to Sara to leave. He didn’t see her again. They had fought, Oliver knowing he wouldn’t last, and it was the explosion that ended it, sending them both flying as the ship snapped and started to sink.

Now, Oliver looked around desperately, trying to find any sign of Slade. He shouted, raising his voice above the sounds of water, and there was no response. With no other choice; he dived underneath the surface, eyes open, scanning for Slade. He had to come up twice for air. The third time he dived underneath the surface, he caught a glimpse of an arm, and swam towards it as fast as he could.

Slade was unconscious, or something worse that Oliver refused to consider. He struggled to free the Australian, managing, somehow, to pull him to the surface, clawing at the wooden support to keep them both up. He could barely hold onto Slade, his side ripped open once again and spilling blood into the water.

Every second, the ship sank lower into the water, and they lost a little more air. Oliver still held. “Come on, Slade. Please, wake up.” He whispered the words repeatedly in his head, staring into the Australian’s face _willing_ him to live. His grip slipped, and Oliver hauled both of their bodies a little higher across the beam. Slade resisted. His eye opened, and he stared at Oliver through a gaze too convoluted to read. He didn’t know what to say, he wanted to say it was alright, but that would be a lie. Slade seemed to gain his bearings remarkably fast.

“Get out,” it was snapped first, but Oliver didn’t move. Slade stared at him. “You need to get out.” The words were less sharp this time, but the American could only shake his head.

“I can’t, there’s no way out Slade.” Unsurprisingly, the Australian had to see for himself. He dived under the surface of the water, and Oliver stayed, clinging to beam until he resurfaced. “I’m sorry.” There was no more sincerity he could put into the words. If there was a way, anyway that his death could save Slade, Oliver would willingly suffer and die time and time over. But sacrifice wasn’t realistic, not in that way. They were both dead.

“Don’t.” The word, simple, short, cut through Oliver’s apology, silencing him immediately. He wasn’t surprised, he hadn’t really expected Slade to accept it. The Australian draped his arm over the beam. “It wasn’t your fault.” He was staring into the water, mind, far away. “And anything else I blamed you for, accused you of, you didn’t do any of it.” The rationality seemed too normal, too good, and Oliver didn’t have a response. “You didn’t deserve any of this, kid. You shouldn’t be here.” He sounded tired, lost, and this time, when Oliver moved closer, he didn’t shy away. He took the younger man’s hand, and they kept each other afloat. “I just thought you should know-” The air split with a horrible wrenching noise as the hull of the ship above them was ripped away. Oliver startled, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. He could helicopters hovering above. Helicopters, they couldn’t fly far, which meant there had to be a ship close by. Was it friendly?

Bullets punched into the water around them, answering Oliver’s question. He clung to Slade, maybe they could dive down, maybe they could try swimming for it. He knew, in the next moment, that the Australian had already been shot, several times, and when he slumped away from Oliver, the firing shop. The American didn’t let go, even as the uniformed figures repelled down from ropes, surrounding them both. He punched one, awkward position be damned, and got a kick in the face for his troubles. He fought, viciously, but eventually, something hit him hard, and Oliver reeled. He felt his body manhandled into rope, and a moment later, he was soaring into the air, staring down at Slade, slowly sinking below the water.

**OxOxO**

Her name was Amanda Waller, and she had promised Oliver, if he did what she wanted, a way home. Home. He didn’t know how to reply to that. Starling had been in his dreams for the past two years, but now, he didn’t see it. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Slade. It was the only time he’d see the Australian. He accepted her offer.

**Author's Note:**

> Ooh look at that another unedited fic I'm going to have to come back to. I'm brilliant. Also, another fic that's taken from my pile of unfinished works. This is actually the start of a major WIP that's actually a crossover that I'm really looking forward to writing. However, I have banned myself from doing so until I wrap up at least one other work.


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